


Never Leave

by Rihaan



Series: HP One-Shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rihaan/pseuds/Rihaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ron's second and final betrayal, Harry looks at Hermione and sees her in a whole new light. He reacts in a way neither of them expected him to.  Light and/or Dark!Super!Harmony. Rated for sexual situations and non-graphic violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Leave

“Hermione?”

Sniffling.

“Hermioneeee.”

More sniffling.

“I’m smelling your underwear right now.”

A weak sob and more sniffling.

“Now I think I’m going to wear it and go outside for a bit of a stroll. Nice and brisk outside, don’t you think?”

A small cry and more sniffling.

“I suppose you might want to burn these panties afterwards, though. Just knowing that your lady parts rub against these on a basis does things to me that I’m not very proud of.”

More. Goddamned. Sniffling.

Harry sighed. Well, he tried. He approached the bed and ripped the covers back. Hermione was knocked out of her daze as Harry picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder with ease.

“Harry?” She sniffed.  _ Again_.

“What?” He sounded more than a bit agitated.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m kicking you out.”

“W-what?”

“If I have to repeat myself I will  _ literally_ _ kick_ you out,” He growled.

“W-why are you kicking me out?” She asked, more confused than anything.

“You’re useless, that’s why.”

“What are you t-talking about?”

“Since Ron left, you’ve been doing nothing but cry. How exactly does that help me find a way to get rid of Horcruxes? How does that help me find them? How does that help me in any way whatsoever, Hermione? Not one bloody bit. So you’re out.”

“But Harry…you need me – “

“No, I need Hermione. Not this crying, useless, dependent, little girl. This is Ron’s Hermione. The Hermione Ron made you become. I want  _my _ Hermione.”

By then, Harry had put her back to her feet outside the tent, where she promptly fell over. “What do you mean?”

“My Hermione would have figured it out by now.”

“Just give me a bit more time – “

“I gave you enough. Now leave. Go join your boyfriend while I do what I’ve been trying to do this whole time; leave without you two.”

“I’m not letting you go on your own!” She yelled, and almost as an afterthought, she added, “and he’s not my boyfriend.”

Harry gave an unconcerned shrug. “Should be. You two are just like each other. Bloody useless when I need you the most. Ready to disappear at the drop of a hat.”

“Harry! You know that’s not true! I’ve  _ always_ stood by you!”

“ _My_ Hermione stood by me,” he corrected. “ _My_ Hermione was my best friend. I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know who  _you_ are. Until  _My_ Hermione decides to come back,  _This_ Hermione needs to go. So get out.”

“But Harry – “

“Get. Out.”

He turned around and walked away. Hermione struggled to her feet, straining from misuse. “Harry, please… you can’t do this alone.”

“Maybe not. But I can’t do this with you, either.”

“Please, Harry. Give me another chance – “

“You told Ron you chose me over him. You obviously made a mistake. Now go tell him that. Maybe when you two are back at Hogwarts, and you’re doing all his homework, you’ll stop crying.”

He stopped walking and half-turned towards her. “My Hermione died somewhere between the Hall of Mysteries and me telling her the Prophecy. I’d understand why she’d be gone forever. She was my best friend. I loved my Hermione more than you could ever know!” For the first time, he was actually yelling. “She helped me, she cared about me, she was the only thing that kept my life from being a living hell!” He watched as Hermione was almost to her feet. Oh, how much she had changed from before. “I’m never getting her back. I know that now. I’m not gonna try any more. And I don’t need whatever you’ve become to remind me.”

Hermione limped towards the fast-retreating figure, before he disappeared into the wards of the tent. Wards that she herself had set up. Still, she trudged towards him, reaching to where he had last been seen…only to see nothing.

She walked a bit further. The tent was still disillusioned to her completely.

She pulled out her wand and quickly disabled the wards. Nothing.

Harry Potter was gone.

Then, Hermione started crying, again, but for a completely different reason.

* * *

Harry walked into the protections of the wards and quickly performed a notice-me-not charm. He walked into the tent and didn’t turn back. After sighing a long, painful sigh, he snatched the locket off his neck, threw it across the tent, and fell onto the bed.

* * *

He woke up the next morning to the sound of silence. He liked that sound. It was very pleasing to his ears.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about what he did last night. It was probably for the best, kicking her out. She obviously missed the traitor, but she was afraid of becoming one herself. He simply fixed that problem for her.

Yes, he had made the right choice.

He slowly sat up in his bed, only to look in the eyes of Hermione Granger.

“Good morning.” Her voice was neither angry nor bitter, and he took as a somewhat good sign.

“Morning.” He turned away briefly to yawn in his hand and turned back to her, unconcerned. “Any reason you’re sitting on my bed?”

Hermione didn’t pause. “Yes.”

Harry was silent a few moments. Hermione sat as still as a stone. Harry went to roll out of bed, until he realized that Hermione was sitting between his legs. He set to maneuver them around her, until she stretched out her own and locked her legs over his. “What?”

“We have to talk.”

“No, we don’t. Either you’re leaving this tent, or I am.”

“Why are you like this, Harry?” Her calm façade cracked; she was clearly distressed.

“Why are  _you_ like this, Hermione?” He retorted. “I just want you to get out of here so you can go to Ron. The only reason I kept you here this long is because I thought that I actually needed you.”

“But you  _do_ need me –”

“Not this Hermione,” He said firmly. “This Hermione can’t help me.”

“I  _can_ help you, Harry,” She stressed, just as firm. “And I’m not  _asking_ you to let me stay. You need me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He was quiet. “That’s the Hermione I remember,” He said softly.

“Not exactly.” Before Harry could ask for a deeper meaning, Hermione took the chance to give their entire relationship one. She quickly grabbed his shoulders and pressed her lips to his, showing just exactly what had changed and what she wanted to change.

Harry’s eyes almost popped out of his head as his mind tried to process that he was being kissed by what was once his best friend. After ten seconds of the kiss, he slowly closed his eyes, not caring about anything else.

Hermione felt herself shudder into the kiss, releasing her nerves as she steeled herself to make the move. The move had been made, and she was enjoying every tiny second of it. She was going to enjoy it until he broke it, started sputtering, make some kind of speech about brother and sister, and him and Ginny and her and Ron, and proceed to kick her out again. She just wanted this moment right now, damn everything else.

Harry gave her their moment. He didn’t want to stop kissing her. It felt more felt more wild than any dragon in his chest, more  _right_ than anything he had ever felt. As he kissed Hermione, his mind went into overdrive, wondering what spurred this on. He didn’t know where his thoughts began or ended, or where they were supposed to go, but he knew the ending thought as his mouth parted with hers: If she wanted to be with Ron right now, she would be there. He had pretty much thrown her to Ron. She actually had the fair chance to choose. And  _she chose him_. And the moment he had broken up with Ginny, and absolutely  _needed_ Hermione to come with him on this search, not for what she could do for him, but because of her mere  _presence_ ,  _he chose her_.

Hermione had lost almost all conscious thought as she felt Harry’s mouth open and his tongue seek permission into hers. She numbly allowed it. She did not think that this would happen. She had imagined a lot of scenarios, but she  _never_ expected that even one of them would be that he would kiss her  _back_. Her mind had basically shut off every function as it focused on the only one that mattered. ‘Kiss him back.’

A bit over ten minutes later, they parted. They didn’t remember when they fell back onto the bed. In fact, it took them a few moments for them to remember anything before their kiss.

They stared at each other, each trying to see what the other was thinking. Fortunately, they could read each other like a book.

Hermione didn’t have to read if Harry was happy. He had a dazed and somewhat aloof grin on his face and a sparkle of joy in his eye.

Also, something was pressed against her thigh. She was shocked, but not as embarrassed as she thought she would have been. Harry seemed to not have noticed yet, and she wasn’t going to complain.

Their faces were inches apart, and while they had long ago read the other’s emotions, now they were reading their own.

“Old Hermione…” She started, “always wanted to do that.”

Harry gave a slightly bigger grin. “Old Harry’s been thinking about it every now and then.”

“Old Harry?”

“The Harry that gave a damn what other people think, and thought about a future traitor’s feelings before himself.”

“I don’t like that Harry much. But then, that was the Harry I…” She stared into his eyes, and drew courage from them. She had already kissed him, she might as well go all in. “That was the Harry I fell in love with.”

Harry saw the uncertainty in her eyes, but there was no way he could mistake it for something else when he saw her eyes shine with what could only be joy. Joy that she had finally said it to him. “I can’t change back,” He admitted. “This feels too right.”

“We’ll make it work.” She gave a weak grin. “I’m really starting to like this Harry.”

He could only smile back.

She felt his hands on her waist gently nudge her over, so she rolled with him so they lay together on the bed. He didn’t let go of her waist, and she didn’t let go of his sides.

She felt that she needed to explain something to him. She should explain what came around for her to realize the past two years of her life was a mistake. She should explain why she didn’t leave, why no one outside of the tent mattered to her, or how she even saw through the charm. But the only thought that really came up at the time was “My underwear does things to you that you’re not proud of?”

Harry gave an embarrassed grin. Just like old times, when they shamelessly joked with each other. “Don’t blame me. They’re  _your_ underwear!”

“They’re borderline granny-panties, Harry!”

“Are you subtly suggesting that I buy you something more appealing?”

Hermione blushed crimson. “N-no! I didn’t say that!”

“Well, if anything is happening between us, I don’t want to keep the thought of you wearing elderly clothing.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh that was ruined by her smile. “Okay, okay. But no thongs.”

“What are thongs?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Hermione had to smile even brighter; she wasn’t going to miss this chance. “I’ll show you later. I might even try some on for you.”

Harry knew this was something he really wanted to see. “Can you transfigure them?”

With practiced ease, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and conjured a green, lacy thong above them, falling onto Harry’s face. Harry took his free hand from Hermione’s waist and lifted the lacy garment and stretched them out. It took a few seconds for him to realize that girls actually considered this as underwear. It took a few more seconds for him to realize that Hermione actually considered this as underwear.

Hermione felt his approval poking her thigh and couldn’t help but shudder. She was going to wear them quite soon.

“You know, Harry, conjurations don’t last,” she muttered, smiling when Harry shifted his attention away from what must have been God’s second greatest creation. “They disappear in a few hours.”

If anything, the poking in her thigh was getting close to uncomfortable. She had assumed that Harry reached the same conclusion she had. To better accommodate her and Harry (After all, she was fairly sure that he was hurting, it shouldn’t be bending like that) she did the only thing she could think of; she lifted her leg slightly, allowing it to poke between her thighs, and closed around it, trapping him.

They both shuddered at the touch. Hermione didn’t account for the fact that Harry slept in his boxers, and he had long ago poked through the front flap. Therefore, when she felt him at full mass with her thighs she tried to restrain herself from unconsciously rubbing them together from arousal.

She failed, and they shuddered again.

“H-Her…mione…” he ground out, “s-stop it, you’re going to make me do something else I won’t be proud of.”

Hermione kept blushing. She didn’t know why she was doing all of this, but she couldn’t help but notice how good this felt. “I’d be quite proud. And flattered.”

“Hermione…” he grumbled, “unless you want your jeans to get messy, get off.”

“Harry…” she panted, “unless you have a good excuse,  _get off_.”

He groaned out his frustration, but held out. Hermione noticed this, and clenched her thighs together. She decided to share a secret with him. “When I said I loved you,” she murmured, “I meant it. I always did. I never pictured doing this with anyone but  _you_. I’m going to make the most of it. ‘ _Evanesco_!’”

Harry shuddered and shook as he felt himself between Hermione’s bare legs. Hermione felt the two different sources of heat between her legs and felt herself lower onto him. She felt a shock as her center was touching him, only separated by her panties. Not for long; she had gone too far now. “ _ Evanesco _ !” she whimpered, and felt another shock.

Harry was firmly nestled between her legs, and there was nothing he could do but move back and forth and a controlled pace, trying to stop completely, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

When Hermione reached down and tickled the only visible part of his shaft, as she was trying to get to her clit, he almost lost control.

However, when she started grinding even deeper on him, moaning his name in his ear, he was slicked with her juices, he almost felt a heart attack coming on. This was all so unfamiliar to him, so  _real_ , so  _strange_ ,  _so right_. But he still refused to let himself go.

Until he heard the cutest little whimper Hermione had ever given in her life, a small whine, and he felt her shudder, clinging onto him for dear life, that he fully realized how unbelievably right this felt, and he let go. He gave a rugged sigh as he released.

Hermione was slightly disappointed. She couldn’t feel it on her, because it extended past her thighs. That stray thought quickly made her disappointment disappear.

They were both breathing heavily, their sweaty bodies mingling together even more, and Hermione decided to go for broke once more. With one more flick of their wand, all of their clothes were missing.

Harry didn’t react to the sudden disappearance of his boxers and shirt, he was too busy feeling Hermione’s breasts against his ribs. He gently scooted Hermione up to his face to kiss her gently.

“Thank you, Hermione.”

She smiled weakly. “For what, Harry? This was what I needed too.”

“You gave me exactly what I needed. My best friend back. Someone that loves me, and someone that I love too much to ever let go again. A beautiful and brilliant girl who I would love to spend the rest of my life with. My Hermione.”

She had tears in her eyes as she kissed him for all she was worth.

She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, completely knackered. “My Harry,” she whispered.

Harry nudged closer to her, until he felt the lacy garment at his stomach. He lazily picked it up and gently pried Hermione’s wand out of her hand. He vanished the underwear, before putting the wand beside the bed. He relaxed into her embrace as sleep took him once again.

Half-an-hour earlier, he wondered if he made the right choice. He didn’t. But he wouldn’t change a thing.

* * *

_ Oi, I don’t know where this story went, or where it was going, but I fairly enjoyed writing this. Spent about a day on it, I plan on catching up with my writing before College claims my soul once more._  
_I have somewhat of an epilogue in mind, but that’s for another day. And no, no more random sex scenes. I honestly don’t know how that got there._

**_Edit: And the following is the ‘epilogue’ that I had in mind._ **

* * *

The ‘final battle’ was strangely anti-climactic. There were no bumbling teenagers depending on luck and half-assed deductions to leap out of situations and happens to land onto Voldemort. It was just pure skill, cunning, and the beautiful show that Harry and Hermione became greatly known for. With a bit of help from the Elder Wand.

* * *

Hermione had figured it out days after their coupling, with the book. Her mind quickly deduced where it was, who was the current master, and how to get ownership back. They got to the resting place of Albus Dumbledore mere minutes before Tom interrogated Olivander again. Afterwards, Harry decided that the next step would be becoming the true master, something Hermione instantly agreed with.

They reflected back to the night that they had been almost caught by death eaters. They went back to Tottenham Court Road to retrace their steps. After several attempts, and as they walked back to the spot they had apparated from The Weasley’s, Harry, in frustration, wondered aloud how Voldemort’s followers found them.

Immediately, they heard two pops. Out of instinct, they shot stunners at the two intruders. Harry’s target was hit, but Hermione’s target dodged the stunner. He quickly shot a dark curse that both managed to dodge and during the distraction, enervated his partner. Harry, sensing déjà vu at the purple curse almost hitting Hermione, shot a  _Reducto_ at the man. It caught the Death Eater’s wand and arm, and he fell to the ground in a loud scream. Hermione quickly stunned the other Death Eater and summoned him towards them. They popped away from the scene.

Through interrogation with the Death Eater on the Malfoys’ location, he cried out “Voldemort!” and promptly fainted. After a pause, there were multiple pops outside the tent. Luckily, they had already figured out that he would give them the key to how Death Eaters found them so easily and had both packed everything except the tent. They quickly grabbed their bags and Hermione apparated away, holding Harry’s hand.

After that, they quickly changed their battle plan. They saw what had happened, what Harry felt, and what Hermione would’ve felt if she were put in that situation. Shoot to injure. Shoot to kill. Never shoot to sleep. They could wake up, which defeats the purpose of fighting them in the first place.

After that, they laid out a trap. They walked to a large clearing and hid their stuff under Harry’s invisibility cloak. They yelled out Tom’s anagram and shot  _Reducto’s_ and  _Sectumsempra’s_ at anything that popped.

They repeated this three more times before their stomachs couldn’t take any more. They quickly grabbed their things and apparated away again.

The next time he did it, Harry told Hermione to stay hidden behind a tree. He had a plan to get to Draco. Hermione tried to argue, but he immediately replied that with all the times he trusted her, she was going to have to trust him this once. She reluctantly did.

She hid behind a tree and watched as Harry summoned the Death Eaters. Three showed up this time, staring at the Boy-Who-Lived with greed. He shot stunners haphazardly as he quickly walked up to the middle one and punched him in the face, while kicking another one in the shin. Before the last one could react, he already had the phoenix feather wand pointed towards him. “Take me to Malfoy Manor,” he growled, and the two immediately disappeared.

Hermione quickly incarcerated the two Death Eaters left behind and considered making one of them take her to Malfoy Manor as well, but she decided to trust Harry.

It took Harry twenty dangerously long minutes before he popped back, with Kreacher and the old man she remembered as Olivander appeared. Harry grinned his success, and Hermione hugged him gratefully. He told her that Bellatrix was  _dead_. Lucius was dead. Narcissa was dead. Almost all of the Death Eaters were dead, along with the entirety of the inner circle, minus Snape and the Death Eaters at Hogwarts. And Draco died last. That made Hermione shudder at the meaning of that statement. Harry didn’t even bring the Elder Wand with him.

What he said next almost floored her. The Snake was dead, too. Three Horcruxes down.

They leaned on each other into the backup tent, so Harry could get the Elder Wand. He popped away a moment later, ready to finish what he started.

While he was gone, Olivander explained the history of the Elder Wand. At the end, he said it was absolutely unbeatable. She couldn’t help but look towards the locket as Harry returned. If anything, he felt at ease with all he had done, realizing that every evil life he had taken, he was one step closer to ending the war once and for all.

At Hermione’s suggestion, Harry took the locket outside and threw it. He shot the most powerful  _Reducto_ that he could at the locket, and the resulting blast was an explosion so massive, they were all thrown back.

Four down.

After that, Kreacher had informed them that while the secret of Grimmauld Place had been revealed, Death Eaters had turned the place over and had found nothing of importance. The intruders had left, and the place had been empty ever since. They considered going back to the somewhat more comfortable home, but they decided that it would be better if they were on the move, though it wasn’t really necessary, since they now knew how they could be tracked down.

Hermione, in a fit of inspiration, asked Kreacher to get the deluminator from Ron. He quickly retrieved it from the nightstand at Hogwarts.

Harry had quickly reminded himself that Bellatrix had told him where one of the Horcruxes were. Hermione looked in shock at Harry, who just turned away and admitted that he’d rather not talk about how he got the information, but said that it was in Bellatrix’s vault. It was Hufflepuff’s cup.

Before they could do anything, Kreacher popped away and returned with the golden chalice. He told them to be careful, because there were very powerful charms on it meant to protect the cup, but they were useless on him. After a few seconds of shocked and confused silence, he admitted that ever since his hand in the death of his former master, Bellatrix had given the elf access to the Lestrange Vault, since she couldn’t go out in public and Narcissa wasn’t closely tied to the Lestrange family.

Harry saw the fear in the elf’s eyes and knew that he was genuinely good now. He nodded his acceptance and thanked Kreacher.

Harry and Hermione stepped back as Kreacher put the chalice on the ground and popped away. Just as he was about to cast the spell, Dobby popped into view.

With Godric Gryffindor’s sword.

Harry didn’t know what he was looking at for a good, long moment. In his defense, neither did Hermione.

Then they both grinned.

Very quickly, they only needed to worry about two Horcruxes.

Harry couldn’t help but note how quickly things were going. Hermione replied that she only needed to get her head out of Ron’s ass.

About a week later, Harry asked Hermione about Rowena Ravenclaw’s favorite heirloom. She explained the diadem to him, and he frowned knowing that he had seen it before.

He figured it out, only moments before Dobby appeared with it. The ‘Come-and-Go’ Room was his favorite playroom. There were many lost things there that he would play with.

Well, it would explain why he never wore matching socks.

Hermione stared at the diadem in envy for a few moments, knowing that she would never wear it. With a small tear in her eye, she destroyed the diadem. It took everyone a beat to notice that she was using her own wand.

So if the object was destroyed, then so was the Horcrux? Interesting.

It would have helped if they didn’t have only one more soul fragment to destroy, but it did matter.

Harry joked that the last Horcrux was usually the toughest. Hermione begged him not to jinx it.

The Master Wandmaker known as Ollivander looked weirdly at them.

“I-I thought…S-So you don’t – you don’t  _ know_?”

Harry obviously didn’t. So he explained. The visions. The parseltongue. The connection through the  _snake_. Most importantly – the Phoenix-feathered wand.

He finished. “You are a part of him. You are so intimately connected to him, in the most gruesome of ways, Harry.  _You_ are the Seventh Horcrux. I am sorry.”

* * *

It was a completely unexpected Harry and Hermione that stepped through the entrance gates to Hogwarts.

Before, they were celebrities.

Now, they were legends. And that was  _ after_ Harry first obtained the Elder Wand, and popped away, next to a phone booth.

When he had first appeared, it was clear that Harry was winning. He had incarcerated the guards, taken the stairs, and found Umbridge. He summoned Alastor’s magical eye back.

By the time it landed in his hand, Umbitch had already opened the door, a nasty grin on her face and her wand pointed at him.

The next time she woke up, she was in the Forbidden Forest.

She croaked a deep, throaty croak and hopped to the nearest puddle.

She was a frog. More specifically, a toad. But she had the skin and appearance of a human.

She croaked in fear at the abomination she had become. But that’s all Harry saw before he popped away to destroy the locket.

* * *

The next time they showed up at the Ministry, it was a day after Harry got the life-altering news from Ollivander.

Before that day, there were three very well-known hideouts for Death Eaters. Malfoy Manor, The Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts.

After that day, roughly 50% of all Death Eaters were dead.

Harry didn’t think his fate could be changed, no matter how many books Hermione sent the night reading, but if he was going to die, he would make sure he was the only remaining sacrifice.

In the middle of the almost one-sided battle, as he screamed such into Pius Thicknesse's frightened visage before he struck him down, he heard a small click in his pocket.

* * *

It took weeks, and Hermione slept for almost six days afterwards, but she had thought of something extraordinarily simple; use the elder wand to summon a Dementor that he could control.

For a moment, Harry thought that Hermione had finally broken. He had feared as much. After enough times casting the sleeping spell on her when she stayed up too long, she had started to surround herself with wards.

Really, she loved him, but he worried too much about what she  _lived_ for.

But really, controlling a Dementor? You’d have to be the epitome of all that is death–

 _ Oh_ .

Harry quickly slipped the ring on his right finger and threw the cloak haphazardly around his shoulders. With a shaky hand, he summoned a Dementor.

While they were waiting, Dobby tailored the broken chain from the locket into the cloak to make a cape. Hermione very sleepily nodded her approval.

When the dementor gracefully glided towards them from the sky, painfully reminding Harry of Voldemort flying, they didn’t know what to expect, so they kept their wands trained.

They had never seen a Dementor bow before. It was an almost disturbing sight.

They spoke to him. They don’t know if he heard them, but next thing they knew, Harry was gently gripped by his skull with the cold, harsh bones of its hands as The Dementor opened its… entire face.

Harry didn’t feel anything for a good, long moment. Then he felt something leave him, before the Dementor floated back, obviously displeased by the small snack.

He tried to feel the pain in his scar, but he couldn’t. At Hermione’s gasp and wide eyes, he felt for his scar.

He was free.

Harry remembered that day with a small nostalgia. Hermione both laughed and cried that day as they celebrated Harry’s continued living, before finally succumbing to sleep.

* * *

Fast-forward two months. The gates trembled and collapsed as, once again, a new force invaded Hogwarts.

People had heard stories, but they were rarely taken with a grain of salt. There was rumor that a young couple had liberated the entire Muggleborn torture camp, and mutilated all of the torturers. That same couple traveled to Gringotts and, by pure stealth, robbed every single known Death Eaters’ bank account, Dumbledore’s as well. They had escaped by Hungarian Horntail, but not before scorching several possessive goblins beyond recognition along the way.

They were unknown, and if anyone thought about the two most famous students unseen or unaccounted for, the story would be much less believed. Nevertheless, It was no secret as to how fierce the secret duo was, or what they could do.

But it was still quite a shock as they wordlessly stepped into the Grand Hall, mere minutes before the lunch period began. They took one glance around the black and green drapes, the much larger portions of meals at the Slytherin Table, the dozens of now scared shitless staff members that had forced their way into the position, and the once pale, now paler face of Severus Tobias Prince Snape.

McGonagall had received a glowing stag  _ Patronus_ not an hour earlier, so any staff member that actually cared about the kids conveniently chose to show up late.

They had no need to begin a long, drawn out spell-fight in a room full of evil people. So they did the next best thing and cast the newest spell Harry had mastered.

 _ Fiendfyre_ .

It was a complicated spell, usually, but Harry felt he could control it better. He had manipulated it in ways no one had ever seen.

Snape could only stare in horror as the Hungarian Horntail dragon, created by blue fire, shot towards him, roaring menacingly.

The young couple quickly escaped the burning heat of the large hall, and pressed on.

They locked the large double doors to the Hogwarts main entrance as a dark smog descend onto the area. The smog of remaining Death Eaters, led by Voldemort, passed through the front gate into Harry and Hermione’s domain.

On that day, they stopped being legends, and officially became Gods.

No one, in person, would ever witness the artistic strokes of the Sword of Gryffindor, or Hermione’s well-practiced, well-aimed curses, or the occasional pops as a house-elf or two picked up a Death Eater, only to reappear fifty feet from the ground, or even the rings on Harry and Hermione Potter’s fingers.

They really didn’t know what to think when they saw Harry wrap himself in his hooded cloak, shielding himself from absolutely  _any_ and  _all _ attacks, leaving himself temporarily invisible, only to have him whip away the cloak and have the curses shot back at every original angle.

Whoever noticed the accidentally accurate crater in the place of the former Headmaster’s tomb, was surely dead.

A mere twenty minutes later, Harry found himself stomping on Voldemort’s neck, snapping it effectively.

* * *

**Ending A:**

He felt a bit peckish. Maybe he should ask Kreacher to make him a sandwich?

He and his new wife leaned on each other as they dragged their feet back into the school and into the significantly scorched Great Hall. Harry took the Headmaster’s seat, and Hermione took the seat next to him. They looked out onto the surprised, shocked, and awed faces. Harry soon found that he would be allowed to sit there for the next century or two. Hermione discovered there was a much higher seat available for her than what she was sitting in at the moment, replacing Interim Minister Shacklebolt.

And no one would have said a fucking thing differently.

* * *

**Ending B:**

He felt a bit peckish. Maybe he should ask Kreacher to make him a sandwich?

He and his new wife leaned on each other as they dragged their feet back into the school and into the significantly scorched Great Hall, ignoring the crowd of students outside the door, and the teachers blocking the entrance. Harry took the Headmaster’s seat, and Hermione took the seat next to him. With a flick of Mrs. Potter’s wand, the entire Great Hall was back to its usual grandeur.

The full five minutes of dead silence was somewhat comforting for the two, until Kreacher popped in with two sandwiches. Dobby, being the showoff that he was, got the house-elves to conjure giant bowls of popcorn for everyone in the great hall. He whispered something in Harry’s ear, and Harry laughed. He took his Elder Wand and shot into the sky. The candles disappeared, and the ceiling of stars faded away to black.

The Wizarding World got their first ever view of a muggle movie theatre. The title –  _Harry & Hermione Potter vs. the World_.

The violence was dimmed down significantly – no blood – so the strange new kernels of what seemed to be hard bread covered in butter were devoured vigorously as they watched both the battle at the Ministry and the massacre at Hogwarts.

Of course, whenever someone called the 90′s equivalent of ‘bullshit’ – usually ‘codswallop’ or ‘poppycock’ – they were gently escorted outside to see the evidence. They usually ended up giving away their popcorn after that.

During the short movie’s credits, the school turned towards their saviors, hero-worship in their eyes. Harry had seen that look on them every other year, and Hermione fidgeted as she finally found out what Harry had to go through half his years at the school. She was wearing her school robes, to commemorate the celebration, and Basilisk skin underneath, but she felt naked.

Still, the hero-worship proved to be useful as Ron Weasley ran up to the podium to give his two best friends a hug. Over thirty stunners were fired, but only eighteen hit their mark. Later, the couple would learn that Ronald was loudly preaching against them throughout the year, and had said that he would ‘punch that git in the nose’ if he ever got the chance again, for taking what was his.

They didn’t really know if he was talking about Hermione or the Deluminator, but they were too engrossed at seeing Ron foaming at the mouth and twitching violently to care.

Poppy Pomfrey begrudgingly carted him off to the Hospital Wing a short moment later.

Harry briefly considered saying a speech, but before he could say anything, he remembered an old saying, that his mother probably would have told him if she were still alive –  _‘If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.’  
_

So he started to go sit down.

‘I also would have told you “ _If nothing nice can be said, _ something _ needs to be said _ .”‘

He stopped as he heard his mother’s voice. He fingered the ring on his right hand as he asked ‘Are you sure, mum? You  _know_ what this can mean.’

‘We’re sure, pup.’ His dad intoned. ‘You were put through hell. Now it’s your turn to give back.’

Harry nodded to himself, bolstered by his parents’ presence. He reached for Hermione’s hand and she gracefully stood beside her husband. Just like many times before, they communicated with each other through their eyes. She nodded, her lips in a grim smile. Harry nodded and turned back to the crowd.

“Years ago, starting in my second year, you called me a Dark Lord in training, only because I could speak to snakes. You accused a twelve year old of being an evil spawn that killed innocent people. In my fourth year, the world accused me of cheating and lying my way through a tournament I was forced to compete in. The year after that, I was a delusional boy that  _told lies_ about Voldemort’s return.” He noticed the flinches, and they had nothing to do with their accusations of him. “How long will it last? My wife and I just killed the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries. This is the  _second_ time a muggleborn has contributed to his death, but nothing changes. You will still call her a mudblood. No matter how much more powerful she is than you – clearly – you will continue to call her that. She nor my mother deserved that title. No one does.

“And now – no one will. From this point on, that vile term is now a taboo. Same goes for Blood-traitor, or any other vile derogatory terms.”

“You can’t do that!” Pansy was the first Slytherin to yell, what could have followed several more howls of outrage. “Just because you’re shacking up with your stupid whore mudblood bitch doesn’t mean -”

In another situation, as discussed with the house-elves earlier, Dobby would have sent off 5 house-elves to quickly subdue the witch. As house-elves were all broken of their duties the previous day, only to immediately go into work with the Potters, it was their job to uphold the rules of the new Taboo. They could hear and apparate through any rune, charm, or spell. They could pop in silently, to surprise their Taboo-breakers, and they could send them to The Potters’ newest property, that Harry had bought a few days ago, thanks to a good chunk of Dumbledore’s money.

Azkaban. They were sentenced there for five days, whoever said one of the words.

That’s what would have happened, anyway.

But by the time the elves appeared, which was immediately, Pansy was already blasted back into the wall, the back of her head banging against the stone, but she was dead before that.

Everyone looked up to see Harry and Hermione, their wands still raised at Pansy’s corpse, A hateful glare directed at her.

Harry turned towards the audience and flicked his wand before anyone could react. Anyone in the large crowd who pulled out their wand with the intention of hurting someone would find themselves with a wand that would burst into flames. It would singe the holders hand quite severely, but it would only last about five minutes, the wand would appear normal and unsinged, and the hand would be healed.

The spell lasted for the rest of their lives, whatever wand they held, but they wouldn’t know that yet.

There were several bursts of flames throughout the tables. Several jets of water joined in, and it took a moment for everyone to realize that not only did the water not affect the fires, but that the burning wands affected nothing but clothing and bare flesh (and, as they would eventually find out, anything the caster was holding to protect their hands at the time).

After the initial cries of anguish, and as they waited for the fires to die down, Harry spoke again. “You kept telling me I was going to be a Dark Lord. You kept  _begging_ me to be one. Some of you just assumed that I was, and moved on.” He gave a slight shrug, his shimmering cape billowing behind him. “I kept hearing it so much, that I couldn’t help but agree.”

Hermione squeezed his hand as she spoke. “Did any of you ever stop to wonder what would have happened if the world treated Harry like a normal boy?”

And without so much as a pop, the Potters faded away from the podium.

Pandemonium erupted. Several wands burst into flames. Several Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and even a Gryffindor or two, were knocked out and arrested by elves. Even a wizard that was smart enough to realize that it was better to just use his hands to convey his feelings was quickly incapacitated.

The more loyal members of Dumbledore’s Army – Now the Potter Platoon – found themselves fading away as well, along with other students that seemed to be defending the Potters.  _They_ would soon discover that the New Generation of the Ministry of Magic was forming.

The Wizarding World’s most famous couple knew that after the defeat of Voldemort, their real work – their true calling was just beginning.

Should be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I plan to pick out some of my older, classic (my words, no one else's) stories, and post them here, but I will mostly start posting brand new projects. Stay tuned.


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